


Zombies Don't Like Ice Cream

by sister_wolf



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tallahassee has a survival rule to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombies Don't Like Ice Cream

Columbus brushed fastidiously at the bumper of the truck before resting his ass on it. They had taken a break from driving through one of the seriously endless flat states in order to stretch their legs. Actually, that was inaccurate -- Tallahassee had demanded a break "on account of needing to piss like a goddamned racehorse."

Tallahassee was approximately fifteen feet away, peeing on the burnt-out remains of a tan Prius. Columbus assumed that was some sort of primitive dominance ritual, or perhaps a statement about Tallahassee's feelings about hybrids. Could be both.

Taking out his notepad, Columbus hummed thoughtfully as he scanned through the list of rules. Rule #12 possibly needed a corollary -- while Bounty paper towels were without doubt the best at absorbing various bodily fluids, in a pinch other brands were acceptable. Then again, that might make the rule a bit too wordy. He liked them to be short, snappy, and easy to remember.

Tallahassee's boots crunched through the gravel towards him. "Hey, you working on your rules again?"

Columbus coughed and adjusted his grip on his pen. "Yes."

"Well, I got a good one for you. Write this shit down: _zombies don't like ice cream_."

"...what?"

"Zombies don't like ice cream. I am not even kidding you, hand to God." Tallahassee actually raised his right hand in the air. The setting sun outlined his hat like a halo. "Pack of 'em jumped me in a strip mall in Topeka. I ended up taking shelter in a Baskin Robbins, figuring at least that way I'd have a clear shot at the little fuckers and they couldn't flank me. And you know what?"

There were a couple of beats of silence before Columbus figured out that his response was required. "Uh -- what?"

"I started throwing scoops of ice cream at the little bastards and they fucking _scattered_. Zombies don't like ice cream. It's like Zombie-Be-Gone -- must be something about the way it smells. Anyway, I ended up sleeping the night in that Baskin Robbins, snug as a baby in a dresser drawer. Woulda stayed there longer, except the power cut out the next morning and the ammunition started melting."

Columbus looked at him silently. Tallahassee had the grin on his face that said, _I know you don't know whether to believe me or not, and I think it's fucking hilarious_.

"Well? Write it down! That shit's valuable knowledge for our post zombie-apocalypse lifestyle," Tallahassee said, carefully taking aim at a crow perched on a nearby fence. The bird flew away and Tallahassee swore to himself.

Columbus nodded. "Yes, you're right. That's a valuable piece of knowledge, which I will write down immediately."

Tallahassee grinned and smacked him on the shoulder cheerfully, rocking him sideways. Columbus winced and righted himself.

 _Rule #30: Humor the crazy people, particularly if they're well-armed._


End file.
